


to sweet lies and terrifying truths

by WhatICantShowYou



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A/B/O, Eventually Lambert-Centric Plot, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27325618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/pseuds/WhatICantShowYou
Summary: “There are things you should know before we arrive, Jaskier,”he said one evening, gaze averted as he poked a stick into the small fire before them, Jaskier pulling the thick, woollen blanket tighter around his form as he looked over to the man.“We aren’t all betas. My brother, Lambert, is an omega. He will spend his heat at the keep.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	to sweet lies and terrifying truths

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a side project I’m working on along with my tumblr content. I cannot promise when updates will come, but I will do my best to at least finish this one at some stage.
> 
> No explicit content in the first chapter, but the rating is there in preemptive measure. The pairings will be added on as the fic is updated. I take liberties with the A/B/O universe, but hey, it’s my fic.

Jaskier knew Geralt was a beta, he had told him years ago when the human’s first rut together had made it’s appearance. Jaskier had figured as much, never once felt the inexplicable need to either bow his head in submission or just his chin out like he had something to prove to the witcher, but still had questions to offer. While their mating calls were much more subdued, it certainly would have gotten to his attention over the decade spent together and yet there he was, eleven years spent together without a trace of a psuedo heat or rut to his name.

“We take potions,” he said one late night by the fire, eyes locked on the flames as he wistfully sighed. “Saves it up to the winters.”

Postponing one’s mating was common practice on the entire continent, only a handful or the more conservative nobles shunning the use of potions to time one’s cycles better with life’s various obstacles. Jaskier had used them from time to time; Keeping his head clear for a festival or to catch a break after a particularly long hunt with his friend.

After prodding the way a bard only could, Jaskier had gotten a waft of the vial and immediately felt sick to his stomach, the scent so potent and vile he barely kept his meagre dinner down. There were no real reason to not do it, no proven consequences to the hormonal concoction if used moderately, but such strong liquid surely wasn’t good to consume regularly even for a man like Geralt, right?

“It comes with a bit of a cramp, but nothing our bodies can’t handle. Better to keep it until we are resting at the keep, anyway.”

Jaskier let it slide for now, instead indulging himself in the thought of his witcher in the throes of pleasure, grasping his sheets as a knot speared him open. Okay, maybe he was biased, but surely the beta would have no issue with such feat. No matter how hard the man pretended not to feel things, they were all victims to their animalistic natures.

It came as a shock when Geralt offered for Jaskier to come with him to Kaer Morhen, to spend the winter with his family. The bard pretended to mull it over for a few seconds, not fooling the man if his unamused expression was anything to go by, before nodding his head happily, a smile upon his lips bright enough to shine.

“There are things you should know before we arrive, Jaskier,” he said one evening, gaze averted as he poked a stick into the small fire before them, Jaskier pulling the thick, woollen blanket tighter around his form as he looked over to the man.

Winter had struck early, the snow already falling heavily and covering their tracks behind them as they scaled the mountain prematurely. There were many spots for them to rest along the trail, currently spending the night in a small cavern where Roach had plenty of space to lie down is she so wished. He turned his head to the witcher, brows furrowed.

“We aren’t all betas,” he stated with a short sigh, still not meeting his eyes as he spoke. “My brother, Lambert, is an omega. He will spend his heat at the keep.”

Jaskier didn’t know what he had expected, knowing fully well that the witchers waited until inside the safety of their keep to let their cycles back up. Still, the idea of a ripe, strong omega trembling and begging for his help had his cock twitch in his breeches, the bard palming at his crotch to settle the straining length somewhere less apparent.

“I think I will manage.” He was speaking honestly, had spent many years in a castle of nobles that shunned the practice of suppressants and decent distancing for an alpha’s sanity. If only he could keep count of the times he had knotted his own hand to the sounds of an omega twitching and pleading for help just a few rooms away, head thrown back as he gave in to the barest of his bodily needs. 

“Know you will,” Geralt said, finally meeting his gaze as he spoke. “I just want you to be prepared.”

It was three days later that they arrived at the foot of the keep, Kaer Morhen as impressively large as Jaskier had imagined. It was run down and broken, a shadow of it’s former glory in the blizzard urging them to hurry up inside, yet the bard took a moment extra to take in the sight before he jogged up along Geralt’s side, smiling as he sat his foot inside the keep for the first time. 

* * *

Meeting Geralt’s family wasn’t all too strange, the usual pack rituals being made as the witcher put his bags on the floor. A man much like Geralt in his appearance, sparing the scars along his face, was first to meet them, practically pouncing on the witcher as he sniffed every nook and cranny of his exposed skin. 

Eskel, he said as he finally noticed the bard stood behind the witcher, a gentle smile on his face as he presented his hand. He was as tall as Geralt, only a little broader by his shoulders and hips than his friend, and had a soothing voice. A beta, Jaskier deducted from his scent, finally able to smell it on Geralt as well after he stopped taking his potions on their way up the mountain. 

Just behind the man was a shorter, older witcher. He did the same inventory of Geralt, nose dug into his neck and wrists rubbing against the other’s to place his scent on his skin. Vesemir was his name, Jaskier already familiar with the man in all ways but physical from Geralt’s stories. He gave him his best smile as he took his warm hand in his own, shaking it gingerly. 

“Where’s Lambert?” Eskel shoot a glance at the older witcher, lips tight as he awaited the man’s reaction. He nodded once before looking away, wistful eyes locked on the spiralling staircase on the opposite wall. 

“In his chamber,” the witcher said, Geralt sighing as if he knew what that meant. 

Jaskier gave the two a quizzical look, brows furrowed deeply as he felt the tension rise. The youngest witcher was at the keep at least, not suffering his way up the trail with the wind in his eyes and snow plastered across his body. Something primal in him settled at the thought, an alpha’s desire for the omega to be safe. 

“He could sense you brought someone else along,” Eskel explained, eyes on Geralt despite obviously meaning to relay the information to Jaskier. Vesemir had made his away across the room to enter what the bard assumed to be a kitchen, his warm, pack leader-scent wafting of his form as he left. “He threw his gwent deck across the table and booked it.”

A cold sensation ran through Jaskier’s blood at the words, his body tensing up as his eyes snapped to the witcher. Geralt had said the pack was happy to have him, but was he not as invited as he had thought? Geralt growled quietly and took one step closer to the bard in consolation, giving Eskel a look before he picked their bags up again. 

“Dinner’s ready any time now, you can sit down by the fireplace until then.”

Jaskier followed the advice and dragged his own backpack along with him, the case of his lute resting against the armchair as he sat down in front of the flames. The warmth soothes his aching bones but didn’t dissipate the gnawing sensation in his limbs, anxiety creeping up on him as he relaxed into the worn leather. 

Geralt rested a hand on his shoulder as he stood behind the chair, Jaskier craning his neck to watch those amber eyes locked on the smouldering fire. He didn’t say anything, but waited until the bard rose from his seat to join them at the table for a meal. 

* * *

“You can take the bags to the hall, Jaskier, I need to speak with my pack,” Geralt said as their bowls were empty. He meant Eskel and Vesemir, for the acute absence of Lambert was felt throughout the room for the entire course of the dinner. Jaskier did as he was told, shouldering as much of their packing and dragging the rest behind him as the witchers’ hushed voices lead him out. 

He waited by the stairs for several minutes before he was joined by Geralt and his brother, both of them tense in a way he rarely saw his friend. He had bouts of anxiety and coldness like any other, no different from any other man of his time, but watching Geralt clenched jaw and hands had Jaskier’s worry flare up once more. 

“We will stay at the ground floor,” he said, picking up the bags the bard hadn’t managed to carry in his arms without a strain. Eskel made a gesture to follow, leading them through a spacious corridor and stopping by a large, wooden door. 

Inside was a spartanly decorated room, two small beds close to one another and a desk pushed into the corner. There was place for a fire to keep them warm in the night as well as an tiny wardrobe filled with pelts and blankets. Jaskier placed his packing on one of the unsteady beds, sitting down gently to not disturb the wooden frame with his weight. 

Eskel helped them unpack the bare necessities, crouched down to stack some old firewood before using a familiar sign to light it. He left them alone after nuzzling his neck against Geralt’s own, wrist grazing Jaskier’s scent glands in a show of warmth before closing the door behind him with a quiet “ _ Goodnight _ ”.

Silence filled the room as Geralt stood in the doorway, not moving as he stared at the floor for a few minutes. Jaskier let him be, left him to gather his thoughts as he moved the rest of his bags onto the floor to make room on the bed. 

Taking the invitation Geralt stalked over to slump down by his side, body heavy as he leaned onto his shoulder. It was times like these that Jaskier could truly feel his heritage, his body radiating it’s own calm to lull the beta’s anxieties into something more manageable. It was taxing despite being involuntary, but proved to help his own mind come to rest as he felt the man relax into his scent and presence. 

“I’m sorry about all... this.” Geralt made a vague gesture with his hand, motioning to nothing in particular yet everything all at once. Jaskier hummed as an answer, his body producing the sound from deep within by instinct. 

He knew Geralt hadn’t invited him to the keep unless he thought it would go well, wouldn’t drag him along the dangerous trail up the mountain if not thinking he would find a place to rest with his pack. 

“Lambert will come around, he’s always been...” Geralt trailed off, sighing as no words seemed to come to mind to describe the young witcher. Jaskier just nodded understandingly in response, huffing out a flaccid laugh as the other leaned his head against his shoulder. 

“I know all about complicated families, my dear Geralt,” he said simply, angling himself so the man could rest more comfortably. “Have I ever told you about my cousin Marka? Her antics makes this whole ordeal look like a party in comparison.”

Geralt chuckled at his words, moving around to sniff at his neck with closed eyes. Jaskier placed one of his hands on the witcher’s thigh, smiling as they both felt the bad feelings run off their bodies like rain and exhaustion setting in in it’s stead. He manoeuvred them so they were both laid down on the bed, leaving his side for just a moment to pull the blanket over their still dressed forms. They had slept in their clothes far too many times to keep count, one more night hardly adding any difference as they settled in to let the rest take them.

Jaskier liked the way Geralt smelled when his potions weren’t suppressing his scent, he realised as he drifted off. It made something stir within him and a content rumble made it’s presence knows as his eyes drooped. He could get used to it, he decided. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment if anything in particular caught your attention!


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